What has your experience of being an out artist in the music industry been like?
It’s been great, I’ve never been happier than I am now, to tell you the truth.
How has being signed to such an explicitly queer label influenced that experience?
Well, I’ve never been signed to another label, so I can’t tell you exactly how KRS’ queer-centric focus has made an impact on my career, but I will say that I’ve been allotted creative control in a way that’s really liberating and freeing to me. There’s never been any question over the legitimacy of what I’m doing and I’ve been treated with love the whole way. I couldn’t have asked for a better label, really.
Have you experienced any changes in how out artists are recognized and included over the course of your career?
I think there’s been a bit of a paradigm shift in the way queer artists are considered and represented in music. Like we’ve gone from the early 2000s where Madonna kissing Britney and Christina was an earth-shaking bombshell in the music industry to the 2010s where queer folks are at the forefront of mainstream pop and pushing it in all kinds of new directions. It feels more possible to make an impact now than it ever has before.
What does the concept of Pride mean to you?
Pride, to me, represents the tenacity of the queer community and how we’ve refused to stop existing, no matter how much we’ve been ostracized and minimized throughout history. It’s a testament to the power of simple acts of solidarity, of refusing to take shit from anyone for who we are, and of the epochal influence that trans women of color have had on the community as a whole.
Who are some of your queer or trans heroes or musical influences?
Oh god there’s so many. David Bowie was the first one who really made an impact on me, as a matter of fact, the first time I ever wore fem clothes out in public was during a Bowie tribute performance. SOPHIE is another inescapable influence, her production was from another world and showed just how much queer and trans folks can push the boundaries of pop music. Laura Jane Grace taught me how to write rock’n’roll songs about the trans experience, Pete Shelley taught me to keep my pronouns gender-neutral in my songwriting, and Slyvester taught me how queer folks pioneered dance music. Rob Halford is my hero for inspiring so many metal bands to wear leather gear without any knowledge that it was a gay subculture they were indulging in, Lou Reed showed me that you can write fantastic songs about trans people, Bradford Cox showed me that even the most particular of emotions can become universally relatable through good storytelling. I can go on and on and on with this answer.
How do you feel about having your music labeled as “gay music”, “queer music”, or “trans music”?
I love it and openly do it all the time. Almost every Shaylee song is written about trans and queer people in one way or another, and that’s sort of the whole point. I wanted to make the music I always wanted to hear growing up, and queer representation is an enormous part of that.
Would you consider your music political?
Yes, definitely. I don’t think I’d be writing songs if I didn’t have something to say. Politics are inescapable in music, whether it’s conveyed by what the artist is saying or by what they’re not saying. My songs will always convey my political perspective whether I intend them to or not, although lately I have been intending it much more than I used to. It’s a strange world when advocating for human rights is seen as polarizing and political, but here we are, and I’ll be damned if I remain silent on things that matter to me, like trans rights and over-policing. That Overton window ain’t gonna move itself.
Do you have any advice for LGBTQ artists just coming up now?
Be as prolific as you can and don’t be afraid to fail. The more songs you write, the more beats you make, the more practice you get, whatever it is that you do, do it as much as you can and try to learn from your mistakes as you go. Don’t get hung up on one song or one album just because it isn’t perfect, people love flawed records and songs and they love to see growth in an artist, so don’t be afraid to do that growing out loud. And my biggest piece of advice: try to make art that only you are capable of making.
Why is support for art, music, and venues so important for the well-being of LGBTQ people?
It’s central to our culture, to our collective sense of hope and understanding of each other; it’s also tied to a long history of closeted queers desperately needing a place to go to feel understood and seen. Art can absolutely be a lifesaving thing, and I know because it’s saved me multiple times. I see what I do as instrumental in keeping folks alive and connected to something while they’re still figuring themselves out, showing them that it’s not only ok to be who they are, but also that it’s possible to thrive.
What messages do you hope your LGBTQ fans or listeners receive from your music?
Whatever they want to get from it is fine by me, but what I want them to get from it is a sense of camaraderie with me as another queer trans person just trying to figure things out. I want them to feel less alone, to learn from my mistakes, and to feel understood and heard by my music in a way that inspires them to live out their own truth more confidently. Really I just want my audience to become gayer than they already are, somehow. I don’t know if that’s possible, but we’ll just have to see, won’t we? ;)
For more on Shaylee, click HERE.
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Liz Achanta
